She was a beloved mother, a fearless partner and a frequent hero to Lewis County brides.
Susan Ingram — the cherished, irreplaceable and talented seamstress who, for 14 years donated gowns to winners of the Miss Lewis County pageant — died Thursday at Providence St. Peter Hospital after a month-long battle with COVID-19.
She was 69.
"Her life was the girls, the brides — taking care of the public. That was her whole life. There wasn't anything she couldn't do with a sewing machine," said her husband Sol Ingram on Friday from their fifth wheel located in Pe Ell. "She was a hero to these girls. She was a lifesaver to these girls.”
Susan Ingram, born and raised in Pe Ell, operated the renowned boutique Sewsie’s Diva Palace in the Twin Cities before closing her doors in 2016 for semi-retirement. For many years in her storefront, she hosted the Dress for Success program, which matched female professionals with job interview attire.
She remained committed to her craft following the store’s closing and worked out of the Yard Birds Mall for many years, working on dress alterations and continuing her routine of sewing.
For 25 years, Susan Ingram remained a fixture in the Twin Cities business community.
"She amazed me,” said Jane Bates, 75, one of Susan Ingram’s closest mentors and friends. “I said, 'Susie, you could make or break a sale just because of your knowledge of what you could do with any piece of clothing. You could turn a size 8 to a size 20 if you'd want.' She was just fabulous. She was just one of the kindest people I've ever met."
Sol Ingram, surrounded by grandchildren and family Friday night at home, recounted Susan’s life and the past month fighting the virus. Their 11-year-old dog Ozzy and two cats meandered about as family pictures hung on the walls of Susan and Sol’s fifth wheel, which has been parked behind a shop they’ve rented in Pe Ell the last six months while they built a house in Chehalis.
"Susie was all about family," Sol Ingram said.
The couple was married for 39 years.
"She made everything, whatever you needed sewed,” he added. “I liked to say I was married to a legend.”
The two met in 1982 in a small cafe located in Homer, Alaska. Susan, already previously married with one child, had been working as a cook on a fishing boat. Sol Ingram, a professional arm wrestler with the nickname “Arm & Hammer,” was living there at the time.
It was a movie script meeting of two lovers.
“I was just sitting there, talking to friends and girls, and this little bell went off — which is someone coming through the door — and I turned, looked and seen the prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen,” Sol Ingram said, recounting her big, strawberry-red hair.
She didn’t pay him much attention at first, but he was able to get a first and second date while she spent two weeks at the port. They went to a movie for their first date, Sol Ingram said, though he couldn’t remember the title — that’s just how infatuated he was.
She eventually came back from the seas for a third date. After just five weeks of dating, Sol Ingram recounted, they were married.
“We just didn’t go anywhere apart after that,” he said, adding later: "It was just amazing to marry her that fast. She had a love of arm wrestling, too, by the way."
The two would eventually move to Lewis County and have another son. Sol Ingram, who for more than 30 years worked as a body detailer, said he would help his wife around the shop and learned more than he might have liked about the intricacies of seamstressing.
Sol and Susan would enter themselves into St. Peter on the morning of Oct. 6. Both had been suffering from severe COVID-19 symptoms.
“We’re delirious. Couldn’t eat, couldn’t drink, couldn’t breathe hardly. Couldn’t stand up. Finally, I woke up in the early hours of the morning, probably 5 a.m., to see my wife sitting up and she had her phone in her hand. She’s just kind of staring, and she says ‘Sol, I had to call the ambulance,’” he said.
The ambulance couldn’t fit both of them, though. Against his own intuition, Sol’s son Dakota Ingram encouraged him to check himself in as well. He did, about 10 hours later.
“I went to the COVID floor. Found out that Susie was brought directly to the critical care area,” he said.
As Sol quarantined through his infection and got better, Susan remained stable. The family prayed. Things appeared to be going well.
“But then, the last five, six days of this, it just went — kidneys failed, lungs got worse and it just became obvious. And, I could never say that she wasn’t going to make it. People would ask me, always, ‘How’s Susie?’ and I couldn’t say anything,” he said.
Sol Ingram got out of the hospital on Oct. 24, having gone three weeks without seeing his beloved wife — his soulmate and best friend.
"It was awful, scary. Having your wife on a ventilator. And you're fighting for your life," he said.
Susan Ingram spoke her last words to Sol just before she went on the ventilator on Oct. 10. After a three-week fight, she died on Thursday, Nov. 4.
Doctors have warned Sol Ingram that he may suffer a long fight ahead with what has been termed long COVID. His breathing is still shallow and standing for long periods of time remains a challenge. He also lost weight and suffers from prolonged depressive exhaustion.
"When I breathe in, sometimes my chest can heave. I think it's too shallow of breathing," he said. Sol Ingram said he feels his breathing has gone "from a 10 to a 2” in little more than a month.
Small walks have helped him recover. He often heads into the shop to see how his son, Dakota Ingram, 37, of Chehalis, is doing. He’s been tinkering with an orange 1973 Pontiac Firebird — one of his mom’s favorites.
On a recent foggy, fall night, he sat out in the dark, staring out into the dimly lit Main Street of Pe Ell from the cab of the car.
“When she was younger, she had red curly hair and she was always known for running around Pe Ell here in a bright, orange Firebird. I was just trying to bring back some of those younger times for her. It was going to be a big surprise when she came home to see it sitting in the driveway,” Dakota Ingram said.
He still hasn’t processed the loss yet, he says. It’s still “hard to grasp” and it’s “been a fast 28 days.”
Susan Ingram homeschooled her children, Dakota Ingram said, and she always supported a loving household. Their family was tight-knit. He remembers being raised in Homer and Anchorage, but he calls himself a “Washingtonian, for sure.”
Ten years ago, Dakota Ingram and the family bought the Firebird in decrepit shape for her. They never got around to fixing it, until his mom and dad were admitted into the hospital.
Taking care of their fifth wheel while they were away, Dakota Ingram also spent hours of the day focused on fixing the car in order to keep his mind off things.
“It will be a tribute to her, now, for sure,” he said.
